


To Be A Family

by Iolre



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Parentlock, Post Reichenbach, not s3 compatible, pirate ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 11:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1303228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iolre/pseuds/Iolre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Fancy seeing you again,” Molly said simply. Billie picked up one of the carrot chunks and watched Sherlock with curious eyes. Sherlock looked down at her and then back at Molly. The pathologist took a deep breath, and steadied an arm around her daughter. “This is Billie. Billie, this is Sherlock. He’s your father.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be A Family

**Author's Note:**

> There was a prompt for this in my inbox, but I think I accidentally deleted it. I asked my tumblr followers what pairing to write for the night, and they wanted Sherlolly, so Sherlolly it was!
> 
> If you'd like to prompt some more Sherlolly from me, feel free to send me an ask [here!](http://iolre.tumblr.com)

“Not yet, not yet!” Molly chided her daughter, laughing as the two year old attempted to drag her towards the pirate ship.

“Mummy!” the toddler scolded, stopping and throwing her one of those _looks_. Molly’s heart caught in her chest, and a strange sort of sadness gripped her. Billie looked so like Sherlock in those moments. Molly could barely stand it. She leaned down and kissed her daughter’s forehead, brushing back a wayward brown curl.

“Alright, darling, you can go play. Can Mummy come with you?” Molly asked, a half-smile on her face as she crouched down to face Billie. The toddler stared at her with her forehead wrinkled in thought, ice-blue eyes focused on Molly’s face.

“Yes,” she proclaimed, as if it was the most important decision ever made. Molly chuckled, reaching out to take Billie’s hand and letting her lead the way towards the pirate ship that made up the tribute playground in the Kensington Gardens. She didn’t come here often - it was a bit far for Billie to walk - but it had been three years since Sherlock’s ‘death’ and she couldn’t bear to be in the flat with just Billie and herself. The little girl quickly became entranced in the wood of the boat, leaving Molly on the ground watching her.

“Lookie!” she crowed, leaning slightly against the edge of the boat, arms waving to catch Molly’s attention.

“Careful,” Molly reminded absently, close enough to catch the little one should she attempt to tumble over the edge.

“Mummy, come! Come!” Billie shouted impatiently, wiggling in her eagerness to try and sit on the edge.

“Coming, Billie.” Molly shook her head slightly, sitting down her purse and stepping onto the wooden walkway that led onto the ship. She was greeted with the sight of a scowling Billie, who was eyeing the boat with a speculative expression. Molly thought wistfully of when she was born, how quiet and content and small she was. Children grew so fast.

“I wanna sit!” Billie pointed at the peak of the boat, looking back at her mother. “Please,” she added as an afterthought, pouting her lips and batting her eyes. Molly chuckled.

“Alright,” she agreed. Billie tugged at Molly’s hand and led her quickly to the front of the boat, waiting impatiently while Molly picked her up and settled her on the edge, an arm wrapped firmly around Billie’s middle. The toddler squirmed impatiently, scowling at the restraint, but eventually settled into it, leaning against Molly and surveying her new domain with sharp eyes. Molly absently kissed her curls, stroking her free hand through the loose locks. “Shall I call you a pirate queen?” she asked her daughter absently.

“No,” Billie batted at Molly’s hand in displeasure. Molly adjusted her grip a bit, ensuring that Billie couldn’t get out of it. The toddler turned her head, her attention drawn by something far away, and Molly shifted to follow what Billie was looking for. She inhaled sharply, her entire body tensing.

Standing about ten metres away was a tall, curly-haired man, his icy blue eyes focused intently upon Molly and the little girl in her arms. His thick wool coat was drawn around him, collar up. “Down,” Billie chanted. “Down, down, down.” The spell broke, and Molly quickly obeyed the little girl, sitting her down on the floor but clasping her hand.

“Sweetie, it’s about lunch time. Do you want to go have a picnic?” Billie eyed her suspiciously, obviously thinking it over. “We can sit on a rock, not far from the ship,” Molly offered.

“Yes,” Billie decided. Molly picked her up, settling her against her hip with one arm and using the other to navigate the thin wooden rope bridge down to the ground. Billie curled against her, tucking her head in the crook of Molly’s neck and wrapping her arms around Molly’s neck. Molly hugged her closer, eyes briefly closing as she heard the steps draw nearer. Instead, she turned and stiffly walked towards where their lunch basket was.

She picked it up and walked towards one of the large, flat rocks, leaning next to it and setting Billie down so that she could lean back against her. “Hello.” Sherlock’s voice was quiet, unobtrusive, and Molly focused on unpacking their lunches. A peanut butter and honey sandwich for each of them, some carrot and celery chunks, and small bottles of water to drink. She laid them out in front of Billie, and then lifted her head.

“Fancy seeing you again,” Molly said simply. Billie picked up one of the carrot chunks and watched Sherlock with curious eyes. Sherlock looked down at her and then back at Molly. The pathologist took a deep breath, and steadied an arm around Billie. “This is Billie. Billie, this is Sherlock. He’s your father.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened slightly, surprise flashing across his face. So he didn’t know. “She’s - Billie?” He tilted his head in brief contemplation.

Molly lifted the corner of her lips, a wry smile. “Billie.”

They stood in mute silence for a moment, the only noise Billie chewing on the carrot. “How old is she?” Sherlock asked.

“A little over two,” Molly answered, lifting a hand to smooth Billie’s curls. It was an unconscious habit, but one that reassured her when she was anxious. “She’s quite advanced for her age, though. Aren’t you, Billie?”

“Carrot,” Billie muttered, reaching for a piece of celery instead.

Sherlock’s lips curled into a faint smile. “You look - good,” Molly said suddenly, drawing Sherlock’s attention back to herself and away from her daughter. She blushed slightly, but stood her ground. “Alive, and all.”

“Yes,” Sherlock said with a nod. “It took longer to dismantle Moriarty’s web than I had anticipated.”

Absently Molly took out the sandwich and tore off a piece, offering it to Billie. “I didn’t know if I would see you again.” She could feel Sherlock’s eyes on her, feel him assessing her words, but she focused on her daughter, trying to coax her into eating the sandwich.

“I didn’t know if I would come back.” Sherlock shrugged. “Anyone I had associated with was in danger while Moriarty’s web was left untouched.”

“So you’re back for good, then?” Molly asked, tearing off another piece of the sandwich. Billie snatched it from her hand and shoved it in her mouth. “Chew, Billie. Thank you.”

“Yes.” Sherlock hesitated, like he wanted to move closer, but at the same time he seemed rooted to where he was. Molly lifted her head and watched him, studying the way his face flickered at Billie’s wrinkling of her nose, at the way she tried to struggle out of Molly’s grasp. There was wonder and amazement, surprise and - a small bit of fear.

She deflated slightly. “Don’t worry,” Molly told him. “I take care of her, and I can support her. You’re not responsible for her at all. No obligations for you to be in her life, either.”

“That’s not -” Sherlock cut himself off, seeming to struggle with what he wanted to say, what he meant. “I didn’t know she existed.”

Molly shrugged. “You were dead.” This time Billie snatched the sandwich out of Molly’s hands and crammed it in her mouth. Molly sighed, making sure the wipes were within easy reach and that Billie didn’t try to eat too much at once.

She wasn’t sure what to say, not really. Did she want Sherlock in her life? Did she want Sherlock in Billie’s life? It was a big decision, and one she wasn’t really ready to make. Was Sherlock ready to be in Billie’s life? Did he have any idea how to raise a child? Billie had been without a father for two years. Molly wasn’t going to invite Sherlock into her life, just to have him flake out when a new case appeared or when he realized that parenting was hard work and that he couldn’t foist it off on someone else.

“I would like the opportunity,” Sherlock told her, his voice low. He seemed hesitant, struggling for words, and instead moved closer, telegraphing his movements so Molly could stop him if she wished. Billie had stilled in Molly’s grasp, watching Sherlock with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. She was a fearless toddler, Molly thought, that was for sure. Instead, neither stopped Sherlock as he came closer, lifted a long-fingered hand to tilt her chin towards him. He leaned in slowly, eyes intent upon Molly’s, checking for permission, before he carefully claimed her lips with his.

It was a quick, chaste kiss, a tentative one, but it promised many more. Billie giggled and clapped, seemingly delighted by her ability to grasp the buttons of Sherlock’s coat and attempt to rip one off. “Billie!” Molly scolded, her cheeks a light pink from embarrassment. “You can’t rip clothes, we already talked about this.”

“No rip,” Billie told Sherlock seriously. He smiled slightly at her, and then inspected the coat.

“No damage done,” he said reassuringly, although he did take the coat off and lay it on another rock, clear of the sand.

“Carrot?” Billie inquired, lifting a chunk in Sherlock’s direction.

Sherlock glanced at Molly for permission, reluctant to do anything without her say-so. Molly nodded. “Certainly,” he told the little girl, seemingly captivated by grin as she placed the carrot chunk solemnly in his hand.

“I’m a pirate,” she informed Sherlock. A grubby, peanut-butter smeared hand lifted to point at the ship. “That’s mine.”

“That’s not yours,” Molly corrected, grabbing a wipe and cleaning off the condiments. “You share it, remember?”

“Mine,” Billie whispered to Sherlock like it was a conspiracy. Molly chuckled and shook her head. “Mummy, I go play.”

“A few more bites of your sandwich,” Molly said, tearing the requisite bites off the sandwich and offering them one at a time to the dark-haired girl. “Promise.”

Billie made a big show out of eating the last few bites of sandwich, complete with huffing and sulking. She would have made any actress proud. “Play pirate,” Billie insisted once the sandwich had been finished. “Lock.”

“You want a lock?” Molly asked, tilting her head. Billie shook her head emphatically, pointing at Sherlock.

“Lock. Pirate.” Billie looked from Molly to Sherlock with solemn eyes.

“You want to play pirate with Sherlock?” Molly translated. Billie nodded. “You’ll have to ask him nicely, then.” Molly lifted Billie up so that she was standing, allowed her to turn so that she was facing Sherlock, who was standing within a metre of Molly.

“Pirate, please, Lock.” Billie offered a winning smile. “Please.”

“What do you think, Sherlock?” Molly turned to look at Sherlock, a mock-serious expression on her face. Sherlock frowned the slightest bit, confused. “That was a very polite question, wasn’t it?”

He caught on, and his face shifted. His lips curved into a warm smile. “Yes, I believe it was,” he said gravely. “As long as your Mum says it’s acceptable, I can play pirate with you.”

“Mummy?” Billie asked hopefully. She pouted her lips and tilted her head. Ice-blue eyes blinked innocently, the colour so similar to the other pair on her father.

Molly took a deep breath, and nodded. “Watch her carefully,” she instructed Sherlock. “Hold her hands if she needs it, and don’t let her trip or get crowded by the other kids.”

Sherlock nodded acknowledgement, and reluctantly Molly picked up Billie, suddenly nervous. Sherlock cautiously extended his arms to Billie, who shifted to allow Sherlock to pick her up. “You settle her on your hip, like this,” Molly fussed, helping Sherlock settle Billie against his neatly tailored suit jacket. He did so easily, far more naturally than she had expected, and she lifted an eyebrow.

Sherlock’s lips quirked in an amused smile. “Lestrade insisted that I assist him in supervising his children one evening after an unfortunate incident at the Yard.”

Molly bit back a chuckle. “He made you babysit? You?”

Sherlock shrugged. “Children are simpler than adults. They do not lie and generally are not deceitful.” Billie was perched on his hip, watching him with a hint of suspicion. He stopped talking, watching her as she lifted a hand and poked his jaw with her finger. Sherlock exchanged a glance with Molly.

“Pirates,” Billie declared.

“Off you go, then,” Molly said, ignoring the nervous flutters in her stomach. “I’ll be - right here.” Sherlock stepped closer, gently kissing her cheek, and Billie giggled as he tipped her slightly.

“Thank you,” he said simply, before turning and walking towards the ship. Molly watched as Billy latched a hand in Sherlock’s hair, talking to him cheerfully as they strode up the planks. She had not expected him back, hadn’t expected Sherlock to even want to take care of his daughter. But it seemed like Sherlock would fit in effortlessly, would assume a role that he had probably never anticipated.

She cleaned up the lunch and packed it away, placing it on top of Sherlock’s jacket. “Molly!” Sherlock called. Molly spun around, her heart racing. Was Billie okay? She saw Billie perched on Sherlock’s shoulders, laughing hysterically and holding onto Sherlock’s curls with determined fists. “She wants you to come play with us.”

A smile slowly slid over Molly’s face, and she walked over to join her family on the pirate ship.


End file.
